Honor Among Thieves: Points of View
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: Scenes through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course of their adventure in AUdom. DV ship ahoy!
1. Hammond

**Honor Among Thieves: Points of View **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Older Kids  
Genre: Het (Daniel/Vala), AU, Smarm  
Warnings: Fluff alert  
Episodes: Takes place before "Heroes" in canon, and between chapters 68 and 69 in HAT-verse.  
Synopsis: Through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course of their adventure in AU-dom. First stop, General Hammond.  
Status: Completed as of June 4, 2007  
Notes: These snippets will not be in any sort of chronological order. Take heed of the timeline notes so you don't get lost!

* * *

**POV #1 - Hammond**

When he was working too hard on anything for too long at a time, George Hammond welcomed an interruption as well as anyone. He'd have preferred an update from Walter regarding the status of the late-to-report _Prometheus_, however, to _this _particular distraction. As long as he still valued the continued stability of his career, he couldn't ignore the phone.

Half an hour later, Hammond hung up the red phone, sighing in disgust and resignation. Times like these were perfect examples of how frustrating it was to answer to the most powerful political leader on the planet. With the election only two weeks behind them, the President seemed to feel that he needed some sort of grand gesture to preserve his legacy for posterity, but Hammond would really like to tell him where to stick his idea.

A documentary. Of all the ludicrous ideas to ever come out of Washington, this one won points for _extra_ stupidity since it involved Hollywood, or at least one tiny slice of it. Emmett Bregman was not a name unknown to Hammond, seeing as how he was one of those pushy political reporters who got tired of the media giants telling him what to report and decided to begin digging up stories that should probably have stayed buried. He had a few respectable works in his portfolio, but Hammond thought that someone who had made a name for himself destroying the reputations of other was hardly the best choice to immortalize SGC operations on film.

He could almost _hear _Jack O'Neill's thoughts on this particular subject.

Speaking of Jack, it had now been nearly two hours since the _Prometheus_ was scheduled to check-in, unless they'd contacted the SGC while Hammond was on the phone. Since it was _the_ phone, Sergeant Harriman wouldn't have interrupted him, so the general pushed away from the desk and stepped out of his office. Just as his foot touched the first stair down to the control room, he heard the unmistakeable sound of the Stargate activating.

"Sergeant?"

The white-haired technician looked up at him briefly. "No IDC yet, sir. Wait, we're picking up a radio transmission."

"_SGC, this is Colonel O'Neill... come in_."

"Reading you loud and clear," Hammond replied, feeling some of his tension ease. "I take it you made it to your destination?"

"_Yes, sir! We had another detour along the way, but we finally got here. Osiris sicced her guards on the local population when her prisoners escaped, so we have some wounded coming through with us. Oh, and a few presents, too._"

Hammond felt his breath catch. For the colonel to be so... _giddy_ as well as declaring he had presents to deliver, the general could only guess that this meant the mission had been a success. Doctor Jackson had been found at last.

He turned to instruct Harriman to summon a medical team to the 'Gate room, pleased to see that the significance of O'Neill's report was not lost on the sergeant. He was beaming, exchanging a look with the equally-joyful technician sitting next to him. As the second sergeant put in the call to the medics, Harriman deactivated the iris.

"Come on through, Jack," he announced, then immediately turned heel to greet the returning party from the 'Gate room floor.

There was an agonizingly-long pause, then the first ripples on the surface of the shimmering event horizon spat out Colonel O'Neill and Jonas Quinn, clad in what looked suspiciously like the armor of Super Soldiers. Both men stepped to the side to allow passage of those who were to follow, which included Doctor Fraiser, two members of SG-5 carrying a dark-haired woman on a gurney, and Teal'c assisting a limping redhead. Next through was Major Carter, whose face broke into a grin as soon as she glanced at her commanding officer. O'Neill indulged his flair for the dramatic by bowing deeply and gesturing behind him, as though introducing royalty.

A second later, the surface of the wormhole broke again, emitting a sandy-haired young man and the dark-haired woman around whom he'd placed his arm. The possessive gesture was mutual, the lady leaning ever-so-slightly against him with her own arm around his waist. The woman was not anyone Hammond knew, but as soon as the young man raised clear blue eyes in greeting, the general felt his breath catch.

"I've waited a long time to say this, son," he managed at last. "Welcome back, Doctor Jackson."

The answering smile did his old heart good. "Thank you, sir, and believe me when I say it is _very_ good to be back."

"Nice to see you too, sir," piped up O'Neill. "Brought you another present, too." Hammond looked up to see the remainder of SG-5 and all of SG-3 step through the still-open wormhole, the six men surrounding a scowling woman with curly blond hair. "Danny had her gift-wrapped and _everything!_" he finished proudly.

"With your permission, sir," Major Carter chimed in, "we'd like to contact the Tok'ra and see about getting Osiris extracted from Miss Gardner."

Hammond felt his eyebrows raise. This was sure to be a _very_ interesting briefing. "Permission granted," he replied as the wormhole collapsed. "Gentlemen, please escort Osiris to a holding cell."

"Yes, sir," Reynolds replied enthusiastically, gesturing for his team to follow with their sullenly glowering prisoner in tow.

He turned and nodded to the three women he did not know. "Ladies, I'm General George Hammond, commander of this facility. Welcome to Earth."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," answered the tired-sounding young woman lying on the gurney. "I am Mai, daughter of Han Kazo."

"Sarilis Camir," added the redhead, a handsome woman who appeared to be in her fifties. He looked expectantly to the third newcomer, but she merely turned her head and used an extended finger to jab Doctor Jackson in his coverall-clad ribs.

"Ow!" he griped petulantly, rubbing the wounded area. "Well, since she has apparently decided _not_ to introduce herself--"

"I wouldn't want to abscond with your lightning, darling," she interrupted.

"That's 'steal my thunder', _darling_, and it wouldn't be the first time you've indulged your kleptomaniacal tendencies." She twisted her lips and raised another threatening finger, to which he rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. General, it is my duty--er, _privilege_ to introduce Vala Mal Doran." Doctor Jackson licked his lips, then added, "My fiancée."

Hammond knew he was probably grinning like a proud papa, but took consolation in the fact that Colonel O'Neill probably looked even more smug than he did. "Congratulations," he offered simply, smiling at archaeologist's companion. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Mal Doran."

She beamed, flashing what looked like every tooth in her head. "Thank you, General. Daniel has told me _so_ much about SG-1 and the SGC that I feel I know all of you already."

"All good, I hope," O'Neill added, hopefully.

"Of course," she answered, "except for you, Colonel."

As muffled snorts of laughter sounded around him, Jack pointed at Doctor Jackson. "Traitor."

"Realist."

"I thought you were an _optimist_."

"Can't I be both?"

Hammond chuckled, relieved on a level he couldn't even _begin_ to describe that everything seemed to be back to normal for the two friends. Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson's humorous banter was legendary in the SGC despite the fact that the good-natured arguments had mostly disappeared months--perhaps even years--before the younger man "died". Whatever demons had hounded the two men and nearly destroyed their friendship seemed to have been exorcized. Perhaps absence really _did_ make the heart grown fonder.

"That's enough, you two," Fraiser cut in, just as the rest of the group seemed ready to take up sides. "General, we'll be in the infirmary if you need anything."

"I'll go call my dad," announced Carter. "The sooner they can remove Osiris, the better."

"We should contact my parents as well," Han Mai suggested.

"I'll take care of it," Hammond promised. The procession then began to move toward the exit and the infirmary, but the general caught the archaeologist by the shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to enfold the formerly lost lamb in a solid hug, but he wasn't sure how well such a gesture would be received. Neither he nor Doctor Jackson had ever been the physically-demonstrative type that Colonel O'Neill had always been. "It is _very_ good to have you back, son," he offered.

The younger man smiled with more warmth and ease than Hammond had ever seen him convey. "Thank you again, sir. I really missed this place once I remembered it."

"That's great to hear," he answered, then looked pointedly at Miss Mal Doran. "You are one incredibly lucky young lady."

Again, she flashed him a thousand-watt grin, snuggling up to Doctor Jackson's side. "Don't I know it!"

"If not, we'll remind you," Jack announced, ruffling his younger friend's hair. "Frequently, even."

Shaking his head, Hammond watched until the last of the troupe had filed out of the 'Gate room before remembering the phone call he'd received just before SG-1's return. If this filmmaker truly sought to create a documentary which exemplified the best of the SGC, then it was fortuitous indeed that the heart of the mountain was at long last home.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
This is, hopefully, but the first of many such snippets!


	2. Atrus

**Honor Among Thieves: Points of View **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Older Kids  
Genre: Gen, AU  
Warnings: None  
Episodes: Takes place before the start of "Honor Amongst Thieves".  
Synopsis: Scenes through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course of their adventure in AU-dom.  
Status: Completed as of June 16, 2007  
Notes: These snippets will not be in any sort of chronological order. Take heed of the timeline notes so you don't get lost!

* * *

**POV #2 - Atrus**

The campfire ashes had been doused and scattered, the bedding rolled, and the horse hitched to the wagon once more. Satisfied that their temporary camp had been properly dismantled, Atrus nodded to the other men in the party and tugged the beast's harness to set it in motion. The horse chuffed in protest, drawing a short laugh and an affectionate pat from the leader of the village of Makosis. The wagon _was _heavier on the return trip than it had been on the first part of their journey. Dried fruits and nuts, olives, cheese, bolts of cloth, and iron bars for the village blacksmith weighed far more than the baskets of grain and crates of wool and salted meats they'd traded in the city of Cethonis.

It had been a good barter, he smiled to himself, thinking how much the fruits and nuts would be appreciated until the wild berry patches near his village grew heavy again. Planting season was upon them now, and it would mean many days of hard labor to ready the fields for the next crop of grain.

"No rest for you yet," he teased the horse.

Darian, a huntsman for Makosis, grinned his direction, believing Atrus' words had been for him. As he opened his mouth to reply, a bolt of lightning split the clear sky, the rumble of thunder booming on its heels. Atrus nearly had his arm yanked out of its socket as the horse reared, screaming in fear.

"There are no clouds!" exclaimed Eschius, the taller of the two hunters who accompanied the headman. Both woodsmen added their strength to Atrus', calming the frightened beast.

"The light seemed to strike just over there," Darian announced, pointing to an open field of wild grasses.

"I am not a weather-witch," began Eschius, "but does Tseus not cast his light on the highest point? There are trees all around us."

Atrus stroked the newly-grown stubble on his chin. "Perhaps the gods have sent us a sign." Casting about, he looped the lead tie of the horse's harness over a branch, securing the beast in place. "Let us see what the message is, my friends."

Cautiously, Darian led the way through the thick growth, pushing aside the grasses so that the two who followed would have an easier passage. This land had been farmland when Atrus was a child, before the Jaffa of Cronus had come and slaughtered hundreds and taken dozens more through the Circle of Stars. Wild wheat grew here and there, and the terrain was still roughened from the long-ago plow.

As his concentration was on his steps, Atrus nearly collided with Darian when the younger man abruptly stopped, holding out an arm. "Something lies ahead," he whispered.

"Go on, then," Atrus chided. "We've made enough racket stomping through the field it must surely have heard us."

Flushing, Darian did as he bade, changing direction slightly and pressing forward. After a moment, he stepped to the side, revealing the form of a man.

He was curled up protectively, but Atrus could see that he was tall, perhaps a full hand taller than Eschius. His shoulders were broad, his body slender but well-muscled. He was also completely naked, and as Atrus reached toward him, he marvelled at the contrast between his own olive skin and the young man's pale flesh.

At the touch on his arm, the man started, eyes flying open in shock. Atrus stared in amazement, having never seen eyes the color of the sky. As the striking orbs darted about frantically, he wondered if perhaps the strange color was owed to blindness. The gaze soon settled on Atrus, though he was guarded and fearful.

"Who are you?" Atrus murmured.

Shivers wracked his body as his breath fogged in the chilly morning air. He panted out something which was garbled and nonsensical, then his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground. Blinking in surprise, Atrus laid a hand on the man's forehead, feeling the heat which poured from his skin.

"He is fevered," he announced grimly. "In this air, he will catch his death. Darian, move the goods in the wagon to make space and open our bedding for him. Eschius and I will carry the Sky Man."

They set about their appointed tasks, Atrus and Eschius pulling the pale man's limp form upright and slipping his arms across their shoulders. His greater height meant his bare feet dragged the ground, but there was no help for that at this time. He was heavy enough as it was!

Finally, they reached the wagon, and Darian assisted them in getting the stranger lifted into the wooden bed. They laid him so that his feet were toward the horse and his head near the open end of the wagon, then laid another bundle of bedding atop him. The horse was untied and set into motion again, with Eschius leading it and Atrus walking along at the rear of the wagon, ready to assist the unconscious Sky Man if necessary.

He still hadn't awakened when they stopped for the midday meal, but Atrus still attempted to coax him into drinking. The man choked but reflexively swallowed the water without rousing. Sighing, the older man stroked his fingers through the short brown hair, intrigued by the color. Like everything else about this strange man, it was several shades lighter than Atrus had ever seen on a native.

Jaffa had come and gone several times in Atrus' lifetime, but only twice had he seen any in person. The last time--which was also the last time _any _Jaffa had come through the Circle--had been two years past. He remembered them as tall and broad-shouldered and some were as fair of skin as the Sky Man. Their heads were covered by metal, so he had no idea what color their hair had been, but he recalled the most telling feature of a Jaffa were the drawings on their foreheads.

The young man's forehead was bare, though tiny lines of tension betrayed his discomfort. His fever continued unabated, but it was not high. Atrus didn't understand why he remained unconscious, but then again, one never knew what to expect from a Sky Man.

He smiled to himself. No one had ever _met_ a Sky Man.

The sun was still high when the party at last reached Makosis, the children of the village calling out as soon as they saw the approaching wagon. The menfolk dropped their hoes and rakes to assist with unloading, but Atrus held out his hands to slow them.

"This morning, there was a flash of lightning and thunder," he began, "then Tseus saw fit to gift our village with a Sky Man. He sleeps in the wagon, troubled by a fever."

"A Sky Man?" questioned Nelos, the smith. "What do you mean?"

"His skin is pale," answered Darian, "and his eyes are light. Atrus thinks he _fell _from the sky."

"There was lightning, then there was this man," he replied. "What else would you have me to believe?"

Nelos had stopped believing in the gods many years ago. "I am sure it is as you say, old friend, though you know my feelings on such things. What is his name?"

"That is a curious thing," answered Atrus, stepping around to the end of the wagon so they could see the sleeping man for themselves. "He spoke nonsense when we found him, but has slept since. He did not even awaken when I attempted to get him to take water."

Melia, Atrus' beloved wife, pushed her way past the menfolk. "Should you not be unloading this wagon so that the horse may be used to plow?"

Atrus waved Nelos over. "Help me carry him to my house."

Naturally, Melia was curious to know who "him" was, splaying her hand over her heart when she saw the newcomer. "He looks like a young god," she breathed.

"Atrus, should you be concerned your wife knows what a god looks like?" snickered Galos, a man but a few years his senior.

Melia slapped him on the arm. "Tseus has not visited _any_ woman in many generations, Galos, but that does not mean we ladies do not know an Adonis when we see one."

Ignoring the hoots of laughter, Atrus, Eschius, and Nelos carefully slid the bedding and its occupant out of the back of the wagon and began to carry him toward the village. Melia led the way, shooing curious onlookers away so that their path was clear. Behind them, Darian began to direct the unloading of the trade goods.

Atrus' house was one of the largest in the village, with three separate bedrooms. Two of those bedrooms belonged to his daughters, while the third was his and his wife's. Melia would hear nothing of displacing any of their four girls, insisting on laying the man on the soft bed of their own room. Nelos and Eschius excused themselves to assist with the wagon, leaving the couple alone with the sleeping Sky Man.

"He is fevered," Melia pronounced, laying the back of her hand on his forehead. "How long has he slept?"

"Since we found him this morning," answered Atrus, repeating what he'd told the menfolk. "He is not overly warm, but he sleeps as though quite ill."

"Perhaps he is simply very tired," she replied. "That would explain his continued slumber _and_ the mild fever. We must continue to try to get him to take water, though, as he will surely need it."

They stripped the travel bedding from him, placing the young man under the linen sheets and pulling the goose-feather quilt over him. Melia then went to draw water and prepare the evening meal, while Atrus watched over the Sky Man.

Evening was drawing close when the young man began to stir again, opening his strangely-colored eyes and staring at Atrus for a long moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but as before, only gibberish emerged.

"I do not understand you," Atrus apologized, resting his hand on the young man's arm, causing him to jerk away weakly. "You have no reason to be afraid, Sky."

"Zhek?"

"I do not know what that means," he answered. "My name is Atrus, and you are in my home in the village of Makosis."

"Atrus?"

"Yes. What is your name?"

"My name... I do not know."

It was slow and strangely accented, but at least he was understandable. "You do not know your name?"

"I... No, I do not remember. I do not remember _anything_."

Atrus felt saddened for this shaking, frightened young man. "Perhaps in time you will, Sky."

He frowned in confusion. "Why do you call me that?"

"Your eyes are a color I have never before seen on any man," he answered. "They are the color of the sky itself! And you appeared in a flash of light, a great crash of thunder." He smiled. "I believe you to have bestowed upon this village as a sign of favor from Tseus. Or, since you came to us in a wild field, perhaps it was Demetta who sent you to us. Until you remember your own name, I think we will call you 'gift from god'. What do you think?"

But the Sky Man's strength had waned, his eyelids growing heavy and closing. Smiling to himself, Atrus patted his arm again, then settled into his vigil. Something told him this young man was someone who had done great deeds yet was destined for even greater.

"Sleep well, Theadan," he whispered.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Yes, an entire story featuring a nekkid Danny. Now mop up the drool before someone slips and gets hurt!


	3. Cassie

**Honor Among Thieves: Points of View **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: Het (Daniel/Vala), AU  
Warnings: None  
Episodes: Takes place between Chapter 69 and 70 of "Honor Amongst Thieves".  
Synopsis: Scenes through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course of their adventure in AU-dom.  
Status: Completed as of June 30, 2007  
Notes: The "completed by" date is only the date the _section_ was completed. Also, these snippets will not be in any sort of chronological order. Take heed of the timeline notes so you don't get lost!

* * *

**POV #3 - Cassie**

Cassandra Frasier's nails clicked against the steering wheel as she tapped her fingers idly, waiting for the traffic light to change. It was a dreary, ugly day outside, heavy clouds spilling over the mountains and threatening to rain. She hoped it wouldn't, though, as that would put a damper—no pun intended—on her day off. College was a lot harder than she thought it would be, and she was thankful for the reprieve the Thanksgiving holiday offered.

Ha! Thankful for Thanksgiving, that was a good one.

The hardest part about going to school in Los Angeles was not the classes but the distance. She'd long thought going away to school would be an exciting adventure in independence, but she never counted on missing her "family" in Colorado Springs. More than anyone, she missed her adopted mother, Janet, the diminutive doctor with the enormous heart. She also missed her "Aunt" Sam, who was a unique blend of mom and big sister and always great fun to be around.

Then there were her "uncles", Jack and Teal'c. Jack was simply a big kid in a grown man's body... though he also had a clone who was a grown man in a _teenager_'s body. That was just too weird to think about at times, and "John" was every bit as funny as his template, though she hadn't seen him for a few months. Then there was Teal'c, her fellow "transplant" to Earth, with whom she shared her frustrations with adapting to local culture.

She didn't consider Jonas one of her uncles, though. He was a nice enough guy and a fellow alien, but she hadn't had much interaction with him yet. There was always some planet to save, some bad guy to kill, and never enough time for friendly get-togethers at Jack's or Janet's houses. Sadly, they'd needed the relaxing benefits of a backyard barbecue even more since Daniel... ascended, but had never found the time. She doubted any of them had really tried.

A horn sounded behind her, jarring Cassie out of her reverie. She accelerated through the now-green light, continuing on toward home. She'd spent the afternoon with her boyfriend Dominic—home from school in Seattle—but then he and his family had to leave to get to his grandparents' house in New Mexico.

As she made her turn onto the main road leading to their subdivision, her cell phone rang. A quick glance at the screen showed the call was from the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, so she guessed it was her mom. Knowing Janet would scold her for talking on a cell phone while driving, Cassie pulled over and parked, then answered the call.

"Cassie!" Janet Frasier exclaimed. "You and Dominic still catching up?"

"No, he and his parents headed for Santa Fe. I'm almost home."

"You aren't talking on the cell phone while driving, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Mom, I pulled over to the curb. What's up?"

"Well, I just wanted to know if you'd like to meet me here for supper."

"Mom, you _know_ how I feel about the food at the mess."

"I meant meet me here so we could go get something to eat. O'Malley's, maybe. No, can't go there. Well, we'll think of something when you get here."

"It's the day before Thanksgiving, most places will probably close at six. We'll never get there in time."

"Okay, so I'll phone an order in to O'Malley's and you can pick it up for us and bring it here. For that matter, I'll ask Sam and the rest of the team what they want and we can _all _eat together."

"Aren't they coming over for dinner tomorrow?"

There was a pause. "Yee-es, but I figured we could eat with them tonight, too. We just got back from that mission Monday, so we're still feeling the need to spend time together. I can't go into details, of course, but it really hit home how important family is."

"Guilt trip, guilt trip," Cassie teased. "Okay, Mom, just phone in the order and I'll pick it up. I'll have the gate guard call down when I get to the mountain so somebody can come help me bring everything down."

"Thanks, honey!" Janet replied. "See you soon."

Pitching the cell phone back at her purse, Cassie turned the car around and headed back into town. An hour later, she was pulling into the base lot, the backseat of her Toyota filled with white plastic bags containing what looked to be enough food to feed a small army... well, Air Force, anyway.

The Toyota was another thing she had missed while in L.A., and had hugged her mom fiercely when she met her at the airport in it yesterday. The little car was her pride and joy, mainly because it had been Daniel's. Jack, Sam, and Teal'c had spent weeks sorting out Daniel's affairs after his "death", a task compounded by the colonel's insistence they _not_ have him declared dead. "Once was enough," he griped when it was mentioned. "Twice was even worse. I am _not_ going through all the paperwork to have him legally resurrected a third time!"

It was never brought up again. Officially, Daniel was considered to be on sabbatical, participating in a potentially significant dig in the Middle East. Rather than selling his car like they had most of his furniture, Jack had insisted Daniel would have wanted his car to be donated to a charity or given to Cassie. Handing the keys to the teenager, he then declared it an early eighteenth birthday present from the absent archaeologist, and used his power of attorney to transfer the title to Janet's and Cassie's names.

Perhaps absence made the heart grow fonder, but Cassie didn't see how that was possible when she was _already_ quite fond of Daniel before he'd disappeared. She knew for certain that she'd missed him terribly, though, especially on the "family" days. Fourth of July, Daniel's birthday, Thanksgiving, her own birthday, Jack's birthday, Janet's birthday, Christmas, New Year's, Sam's birthday, Teal'c's "I do not celebrate the anniversary of my parturition" day, and—of course—her high school graduation.

Then, in her first week of university classes, she'd turned on her cell phone during the break between her Western Civilizations and Latin classes—two courses which never failed to remind her of her lost uncle—discovering three messages from Janet, all asking her to call as quickly as possible. Since her mom _never_ called during the day, Cassie had panicked, thinking something had happened to Sam, Jack, and Teal'c. When Janet explained that SG-1 had just returned from a planet from which Daniel had only recently departed, she nearly leapt for joy. Her Uncle Daniel, who perhaps understood her better than anyone else in her adopted family, was alive and apparently well, though amnesiac.

A gentle rap on the car window signaled the arrival of her food delivery help, assistance rendered in the form of an enigmatically smiling Teal'c. Unlocking the doors, she gave the large Jaffa a quick hug, then retrieved her purse and opened the rear door. Though he could easily have carried all six bags, the unfailingly polite man left two for her to carry so she would feel useful. Together, they headed through the checkpoints and into the mountain's depths.

To her surprise, they stopped on level fifteen, rather than continuing down to the infirmary or the mess hall. At Cassie's obvious confusion, Teal'c explained that they would be dining in guest quarters, rather than subjecting base personnel to the enticing aroma of O'Malley's steaks and baked potatoes. Teal'c shifted the bags he carried to one hand to pass his card through the reader next to the door, then pushed it open and gestured her into the small bedroom.

"Hey, Cass!" Jack grinned, looking up from where he was wrestling two rectangular tables together.

Cassie smiled back. "Hey, Jack! Need a hand there?"

"Nah, I got it," he declined, bending back to his task and finishing quickly. "Sam and Janet went to get the drinks and oher stuff and Jonas will be up here in a few minutes. Whaddya bring?"

"Mom phoned in O'Malley's," she replied, setting her bags on the table next to Teal'c's.

"Sweet!"

The electronic lock buzzed again, admitting Sam, Janet, and one of the mess hall's two-tiered carts. They'd filled it with cans of colas, a silver carafe, a stack of plastic cups, flatware poking out of the top of a ceramic mug, Corningware plates, and a styrofoam cooler that probably carried ice. Stepping around the cart, Sam wrapped Cassie up in a quick hug and a kiss to the forehead.

"Quit blocking the doorway, you two," Janet teased, stepping over to the food and distributing the styrofoam containers to each of the chairs Jack placed up to the table, some settings getting more than one box.

Cassie counted chairs. "Jack, there are eight places. I thought we were waiting for only Jonas?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door being unlocked and opened again. Cassie turned, expecting to see the Kelownan, but felt her jaw plummet to the floor.

"Daniel!" she shrieked, and before she knew it, she'd practically tackled the man. Just as quickly, she drew back, recalling Janet's phone call months ago that Daniel was apparently missing his memory. Had she just scared him?

"Your mom did the same thing," her long-lost uncle laughed, looking her up and down. "Holy _crap_, you've grown!"

A grin stretched her face and seemed to have taken up permanent residence. "Not since the last time you saw me, I haven't."

"Yes, but my memory likes to play tricks on me and shows me the little-girl-lost from Hanka, instead," he replied, giving her another squeeze.

"Janet's not from Earth?" asked the pretty dark-haired woman who'd followed Daniel into the room just ahead of Jonas.

"Janet is, Cassie isn't. She's adopted," answered Sam.

There was a brief moment of silence, interrupted by the woman clearing her throat. "Daniel?"

"You're going to make me introduce you every time, aren't you?" he sighed.

"I never get tired of hearing you say it," she grinned.

"Cassie, this is Vala Mal Doran, the thorn in my side, my partner-in-crime, and most-recently, my fiancée."

"_That_'s the part I never get tired of hearing," Vala sighed, affecting an exaggeratedly-dreamy expression.

She couldn't believe it. Daniel was back _and_ getting married! "Partner-in-crime?" she managed to squeak.

Jack laid an arm around Daniel's shoulders, the other going around Vala. "What we have here is a pair of notorious space pirates."

"Space pirates?"

"Long story," Daniel replied, eyes rolling in amused exasperation. "Suffice to say, part of how Vala and I made our living these last three months included stealing ships. The last one we stole was the _Prometheus._"

"Hey! You didn't steal it, you _tried_ to steal it," Jack protested.

Vala lifted her chin. "Would you honestly have been able to stop us?"

"Well, _no_, but—"

"Then we _would_ have stolen it, so it counts."

Cassie snickered. Not many people could make Jack splutter, but Daniel's new lady friend—his _fiancée_—was managing just fine. She couldn't wait to find out more about Vala, perhaps exchanging her own expertise in assimilating to Earth culture for insights into how this woman had stolen the archaeologist's heart.

After Daniel's wife died, the then-fourteen year-old Cassie had thought it would be a great idea to try to hook him up with Janet. One evening while he was over to help her with her French homework, she'd innocently sprung the suggestion on the adults and waited for their reaction. After a moment of stunned silence, Janet explained that though they loved one another dearly, it was as friends. Daniel later confessed to Cassie that he wasn't sure he'd ever again love anyone as much as he'd loved Sha're.

Clearly, he'd been wrong.

"C'mon, let's eat," Jack griped. "The steaks are getting cold."

"O'Malley's?" Daniel guessed. "Weren't we banned from that place?"

"We still are. Janet ordered, Cassie picked up," Sam grinned.

Moments later, they were all seated at the table, digging into the food and conversing merrily. Jonas seemed a little down-in-the-dumps, but everyone, even _Jack_, was making an effort to cheer him. Before she could ask if she had the need-to-know to find out what the matter was, Daniel cleared his throat. "Janet told me you were going to college now, Cass. Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course, but what are you doing home in the middle of the week?"

"Tomorrow's Thanksgiving," she answered, smothering a laugh as Vala used Daniel's momentary distraction to sneak a piece of broccoli off his plate.

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Jack answered. "And there's a lot we have to be thankful for, you know."

Jonas lifted his cup. "To family," he announced with his first genuine smile of the evening. The toast was quickly echoed around the table.

Vala took that moment to nab some cauliflower. When Daniel shot her a bemused look, she mumbled "What?" around a mouthful of stolen food. "I'm eating for two, you know."

"You're pregnant?" Cassie blurted.

"Just a few weeks," she admitted, cheeks pinking slightly. "Daniel wants a girl, but I'm hoping for a boy."

The teenager grinned. "Maybe you'll get both."

"Maybe... or we'll just have to keep trying! And trying... and trying... and trying..."

Daniel blushed as everyone laughed at his expense. "So... uh... Cass, what school are you attending?"

"USC," she replied. "Southern California. I plan to go pre-med, of course."

"Of course," Daniel smiled. "Wow, I bet Los Angeles is an adjustment."

She nodded. "Definitely, but I'm managing." Her lips quirked as she waited for him to take a drink from his cup. "If all goes well, in four years, I'll be attending the Keck School of Medicine."

Daniel choked on his Sprite, accidentally spraying Jack. "The _what?_"

"That is an... unusual name," Vala frowned.

"Care to share?" Jack griped, mopping his face with a napkin and pointing a thumb at himself, Sam, and Janet.

"_Kek_ is the Goa'uld word for death," Teal'c answered.

"The 'Death School of Medicine'? Okay, that's just creepy."

"A creepy coincidence," Daniel grinned. "Sorry about the—you know."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. But if I'd known you didn't like your drink, we could have found you something else."

"Oh, I like it fine, Jack," Daniel began, "it's just that—" He paused, eyes widening as Janet dumped the last of the flatware out of the mug and began to fill it with dark liquid from the carafe. "Is that... coffee?"

Cassie laughed. "Welcome home, Daniel!"

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Thanks to the ladies at WWLD for suggesting Cassie!


	4. Balin

**Honor Among Thieves: Points of View **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: Gen, AU  
Warnings: None  
Episodes: Takes place between chapters 26 and 27 of "Honor Amongst Thieves".  
Synopsis: Scenes through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course of their adventure in AU-dom.  
Status: Completed as of August 1, 2008  
Notes: These snippets will not be in any sort of chronological order. Take heed of the timeline notes so you don't get lost! (Of course, you might get lost anyway 'cause this one deals almost entirely with an alien culture.)

* * *

**POV #4 - Balin**

Syntagos Ramira Balin briskly stepped into her office and shut the door quietly, then leaned her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Propping her elbows up on her upraised knees, she cradled her head in her palms and willed the trembling in her limbs to subside. She hadn't gotten where she had in her career by allowing emotions to rule her judgment, but there was a time and a place for allowing her feelings to take precedence over all else, and this was clearly one of them.

Daniel and Vala: two simple names which came with very big problems. The two young explorers were polite, good-natured, entertaining, and a refreshing break from the dull, daily grind of awkward cadets, humorless field leaders, and ambitious officers. Most of the time, Ramira was able to mentally remove herself from the machinations of her fellow officers--a task made easier by her appointment to the administration and command of the Lacani Military Academy at Malkin--but some days, politics and bureaucratic pandering found her anyway.

Nothing, in all her years of training and experience, had prepared Ramira for being at the center of what could be the most important discovery of Jayan history: the Stargate. If what the not-so-alien visitors were saying was true--and for no reason she could fully explain, she believed them--then the people of her world were very lucky that their first contact with life beyond the Apellus was with two people who meant them no harm.

Sadly, harm was exactly what would come to them if Tarchios Marson had his way. Her direct superior though he may be, Ramira wasn't about to trust him to keep his word and wait until Strategos Calius' arrival before attempting to take custody of the "prisoners". Marson despised the other commander, and she had little doubt he'd do whatever it took to accomplish his goals. Like the cunning manipulator he was known to be, Marson would likely get what he wanted and pin the blame on someone else.

Two years ago, Lacana had been at war with the alliance of two smaller nations, Massona and Dora, though after nearly four decades of constant turmoil and infrequent clashes, peace talks had been in progress. The dispute had begun over Lacana's "claiming" the moon and all the minerals below its surface, and had escalated rapidly. For most of her life, Ramira had been encouraged to believe that Massona and Dora had attacked unprovoked, and were simply angry that they had not had the technology necessary to launch colony ships and mining equipment into space.

Then, when she was a second-year student at Naetilius Scola, she had met and fallen in love with a final named Pelar Gantopolus. A student of history, Pelar had convinced her of the truth of who really fired the first shots of the conflict, and how it was unethical of Lacana to claim sole ownership of a natural satellite which cast its light upon all Jayans.

"The Dorae actually got there first," he explained, "but they never thought about exploiting Artema for mining purposes. The Massonae wanted to colonize the surface to deal with their over-population problems, instead."

Surprisingly, Pelar had actually encouraged Ramira to pursue her childhood dream of becoming a military officer, stating that what the armies of Lacana really needed were ethical, morally-conscious leaders. Ramira agreed, and two months after she won her commission, she and Pelar were married, beginning the best years of her life.

Two years ago, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Senator Pelar Gantopolus, a peace treaty was being negotiated with Massona and Dora, with many terms being agreed upon which would be beneficial to all. Even the governments of Aten and Trie had been invited to take part in the discussions, as Pelar and his supporters were attempting to form a Jayan Council which might one day unite the world in common purpose. On the third day of the summit, frantic aides interrupted the negotiations to explain that contact with the capital cities of Massona and Dora had been lost, and reports from the outlying areas told of a brilliant flash of light in the night sky and a tremendous shockwave.

Then a tagmarchios, Ramira had been but one of many officers dispatched to lead the rescue and recovery efforts, and the utter devastation she witnessed as her transport circled the remains of the capital of Dora had made her ill. The very ground looked as though it had been boiled away near the center of the blast, and twisted and blackened fingers of metal stretched outward from there, as though reaching for a safety that was simply too far beyond them. The few who survived the initial blast quickly sickened and died horribly from the radiation they suffered as a result of the devastating explosions.

The official report from Strategos Marson was that the two experimental weapons had been mistakenly brought to the loading hangar and mounted aboard intercontinental strikers which were due to go out on patrol. The two pilots who flew the strikers soon realized the deadly nature of their payload and concocted a plan between themselves to "win" the war by striking the hearts of the rival nations. Ignoring orders to return to base, the two men launched simultaneous attacks on the two capitals. Unprepared for the size of the explosions which were to come, the pilots and their strikers were consumed by the devastating power of the madstone-enhanced warheads.

No one believed the over-ambitious Marson for a moment, but couldn't prove anything. A Senate committee investigated the incident, but was unable to uncover any solid proof of wrong-doing on Marson's part. He was disciplined for failure to follow a number of protocols, safety measures, and ethical research guidelines, and was summarily demoted to Tarchios. Ramira was promoted to Syntagos not long afterward, but to her dismay--and Pelar's, too--her new command meant she reported directly to the new commandant of the Lacani Armed Forces Academy, Tarchios Marson.

As long as she remained under Marson's chain-of-command, Ramira's career was dead, she knew. Still, she'd dug in resolutely, playing the textbook-perfect officer so that Marson had nothing further to hold against her. The unexpected arrival of Daniel and Vala had thrown a proverbial gremlin into her routines, leaving her with a dilemma: should she go against her superior officer and help the young aliens? Or should she bide her time and hope that everything would turn out just fine?

She snorted to herself. The decision was, as her youngest daughter might say, a 'no-thinker'... not that it wasn't agonizing all the same. The thought of never spending a lazy afternoon with her husband again, of not being allowed to be there when any of her three daughters got married... It was a bitter draught to swallow.

"The problem," Pelar had once said, back when they were courting, "is that there aren't enough leaders in the Lacani military or government who are willing to weigh moral outcomes with strategic ones, and accept a strategic loss when the moral outcome is completely unacceptable. Winning a fight's not worth losing the respect of the people for whom you are fighting."

His unwavering sense of morality was but part of the reason why Ramira loved her husband so much, and partly why she had felt an immediate connection to Daniel. The young alien might not have known who he was, but he clearly had a strong sense of right and wrong, and it was just as obvious that Vala--for all her seemingly careless behavior--relied on his guidance as much as Ramira did Pelar's.

Pelar was right: her hard-won position in the upper ranks of the Lacani military would be utterly meaningless if she stood by idly while an injustice was committed upon two guests of her command.

Decision made, she pushed herself up from the floor, groaning a little as her joints reminded her she was long past being young enough to sit on stone floors. She made her way over to her desk, and just as she was about to touch the communications console, it chimed softly and lit up, displaying her husband's name and their home address.

Hitting the "accept" button, she smiled tiredly at Pelar's image on the video feed. "I was just about to chime you."

"I must have read your mind," Pelar teased. "What's going on, Mira? You were late home last night, too."

"I can't tell you any specifics yet," Ramira answered, biting her lip uncomfortably, "even though I'm sure you'll hear of it soon enough."

"Something big?"

"Insanely, unbelievably big," she agreed. "Pel... I'm about to do something which could destroy my career, possibly even result in a prison sentence."

An eyebrow lifted. "That big?"

She nodded at first, then shook her head. "Bigger. This goes beyond me, Pel, beyond... well, let's just say, I don't think anyone could be prepared for what my cadets stumbled across today, and if I don't do something, Tarchios Marson will ruin everything."

The senator scowled. "That man could ruin a hard-boiled egg... and blame it on the hen that originally laid it."

Ordinarily, such an apt analogy would have made her laugh, but Ramira could barely summon the energy to smile. "There's a young man here who reminds me a lot of you: he's honest, earnest, and extremely optimistic."

"That sounds like me before joining the Senate," Pelar remarked.

"Unfortunately, he and his friend have... well, 'unique physiology'."

Pelar grinned. "They're aliens? Little guys with gray skin and big black eyes like the ones in those old spec-fi vids?"

Leave it to Pelar to make that leap. "Sorry, but they're human," she answered, though she deliberately didn't point out they were humans from a completely different planet.

Two other planets, actually, remembering what Vala and Daniel had said.

"Not only does Marson find their genetics fascinating," she continued, "he's convinced--based on an unfortunate flashback the young man had--that they know where more madstone can be found."

Pelar's mouth opened and shut without making a sound. "Whatever you have to do, do it."

"I will," she promised. "Tell the girls I love them and... well, keep a prayer candle lit for me, will you?"

"I'll light two," he swore, "one for you, and one for your 'guests'. And Mira? I love you. Come home to me as soon as you can."

Ramira smiled sadly. "I will. Love you, too, Pel." Shutting off the com line before she started crying, she took a moment to compose herself. When she was confident she exuded a calm befitting a syntagos--and belying the nerves tying her guts into knots--she opened a new line, pulling up the address for EPE Malkin Beta. "Phelagos Nivene," she instructed the aide who answered the chime, and waited until the young non-commissioned officer appeared on the screen. "Marius! Consider this conversation to be entirely between friends... I need a favor."

"Certainly, Synt... Ramira. What can I do for you?"

Folding her hands in front of her, she began to explain.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Yes. I know. I'm _horrible_ for having taken over a year to write another one of these! Consider it a belated "thank you" gift to all you lovely folks who voted "Honor Amongst Thieves" the Best Daniel/Vala Romance story for the 2007 Stargate Fan Awards!

And yes... this DOES mean I'm still working on the ol' expanded, revised version of the original novel, in anticipation of EVENTUALLY writing a sequel. Things are just crawling along right now while my main focus is on college.


	5. Gran

**Honor Among Thieves: Points of View **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: Gen, AU  
Warnings: None  
Episodes: Takes place during chapters 11, 12, and 13 of "Honor Amongst Thieves".  
Synopsis: Scenes through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course of their adventure in AU-dom.  
Status: Completed as of September 3, 2008  
Notes: These snippets will not be in any sort of chronological order. Take heed of the timeline notes so you don't get lost!

* * *

**POV #5 - Gran**

Gran had begun this morning much like every one since the fall of Benu's temple: she built a fire.

Fire-building had been one of the first things she had learned as a child, and despite the many years of hardship and suffering she'd borne witness to, the light and warmth of well-built fire were comforts she clung to dearly. As she'd puttered about the house, preparing her morning meal, she found herself setting out twice her usual amount of wheat cakes and boiling extra water for tea.

Apparently, she was due for company this morning.

She stalled for several minutes, doing minor chores, but after nearly half a candlemark, it seemed her guest wasn't coming. Wondering if perhaps her old gifts were beginning to fail her, Gran settled down to a solitary meal. After finishing, she moved to clean up and put away the excess food, but her hand hovered over the remaining cakes briefly before falling back to her side.

"Either my mysterious friend is very late, or I'm just getting old," she grumbled to herself.

Rather than wasting more time sitting about the house, Gran resolved to go about the rest of her morning routine. After sweeping the floor and shaking the rugs out from the stoop, she was clearing the front steps to her house when she finally spotted him.

Her company... at last.

A man—dressed in foreign clothing just barely adequate for the chill—was trudging up the street. His head was bowed, but he didn't seem to be making any note of the street markers, and Gran wondered what had possessed him to wander the twisted alleys of Gishoral alone. Even natives of the city were always careful to get good directions, and to count street markers!

Convinced now that this was the guest she'd been expecting, Gran let out a calming breath and closed her eyes. Focusing on the meditations she'd learned as a girl, she cleared her mind and called upon her Spirit Sight.

Colors immediately burst forth across her mind. Most people were multi-hued, but one or two colors held dominance, defining the personality contained within their mortal form. Children tended to be lighter shades with the medium hues of their adulthood hovering at their core. Adults were generally medium colors, with a few lighter shades around the edges and splashes of darker colors inside, hinting at the strength of their emotions.

Most people were relatively self-contained, too. In children, their spirits tended to radiate outward from their physical bodies, reaching out to others. Many adults spread beyond the confines of their forms as well—though to a considerably lesser degree than children—but others were starkly-defined humanoid shapes.

This stranger was like nothing she had ever seen, and yet familiar all at once. His spirit spread out far from his body, touching everyone he met. As if his charismatic radiance wasn't mesmerizing enough, his spirit was also an intriguing interplay of color and light, blending and contrasting in a breath-taking display of prismatic art. Lighter hues intermixed freely with darker ones while passionate shades danced with gentler ones.

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. Who _was_ this man?

The man abruptly stopped, looking around him with an expression of confusion and despair. "You look lost," Gran decided aloud.

He turned, allowing her to finally see his face. While young compared to her nearly eighty thaws, the stranger was no child, despite the lightness of his spirit. "Hi. Um, I arrived with the merchant caravan that came in yesterday," he began, shoulders tightening inward as though drawing a protective shell around him.

Gran blinked slowly, and sure enough, the edges of his spirit had withdrawn a little, no longer reaching out as far. "Then you don't just _look_ lost, you _are_ lost," she answered.

Maybe that was part of the conflict of his multi-colored spirit: the man had recently lost himself, and had yet to pull together the pieces of his mind and personality. While serving in Benu's temple, she had met a man who had been injured when a mineshaft partially collapsed, and the resulting blow to the head had temporarily caused the man to lose himself. Granted, his spirit hadn't been quite as colorful as this young man's, but the miner had displayed hues which shifted as they attempted to return to their proper places.

"Yeah," the young man sighed. "These streets and buildings all look the same."

She grinned, leaning on her broom handle. "They do to me too, boy... and I've lived here for forty thaws!"

"You're forty?" he asked.

The incredulity of his voice was amusing enough, but the bewildered expression on his open face was the final spark. Gran laughed. "Oh, that's rich! No, boy, I spent my first thirty-seven thaws up near the mines."

"Mines?"

"Gold and the gods' ore. 'Course they let us sell some of each off for food and supplies when you traders come through the Ring, otherwise we'd probably all starve to death." She cocked her head to the side. "Didn't they tell you any of this?"

"Some of it, yes, but this is my first time here with the caravan," he answered with a small sigh. "I'm a translator."

He was far more than a translator, but when she closed her eyes in an exaggerated blink, she could see he believed his own statement. "And I'm an old widow who misses having someone who'll actually listen when I talk. Come on inside and warm yourself."

The young man hesitated. "I really should get back to the inn. My, uh... my wife will be probably be looking for me."

"If she's smart, she won't go out into the City to look for you, and if she's not, she'll get lost, too," Gran replied, opening her front door. "You might as well come in and warm up so I can tell you the secret to navigating the City."

He hesitated a moment longer, then nodded and complied. After hanging his outer-garments to dry per her instructions, he sat down on the low bench she kept next to the fireplace. "Your house is very cozy," he complimented nervously.

Smiling to herself, Gran continued gathering a tray with the extras from her morning meal. While she worked, she allowed her Spirit Sight to roam over the young man again, noting some of the variances. Deep blue indicated a wealth of wisdom, but it was curiously laced with liberal streaks of the pale yellow of childish innocence. The fiery red of romantic love burned dimly where it bordered on a slim line of dark red hatred, but glowed brightly where it abutted the vast swath of green representing the man's sense of stability. That large patch was interwoven with speckles of active orange, pink affection, purple tranquility.

All this passion, intelligence, and emotional complexity swirled lazily along behind the thick blanket of white purity, as though something had deliberately blocked his access to his own personality. Shaking her head to dispel the bewildering image, Gran gathered her tray and returned to the sitting area. "Thank you, boy," she replied, answering his earlier statement. "I learned to prepare a good fire in my youth, working in the Temple of Benu."

Curiosity crossed his features. "Benu? As in the local, uh... god of funerals?"

"Supposedly our god of rebirth. But the thaw comes later and later every year, and Benu's temple is still a pile of rubble." Not that she'd expected Benu to have any power over such things anyway. The creature who'd pretended to be Benu had been but a dark red and black coil surrounding and dominating the spirit within, and she and the other priests of the temple had known he was an imposter to the name. Benu, they all knew, had no physical form, but they humored the would-be god and kept him happy with their elaborate rituals of feigned worship.

The real purpose of the temple had been to teach those who were gifted beyond the norm, and to hide and protect them from those who would wish them harm. In Gran's case, the Spirit Sight had been nearly the extent of her abilities, but it was a useful gift when supplicants came to the temple, seeking the aid of the holy men and women who worked there. In fact, Gran had been the appointed "High Priestess" the day she met the man who was to become her husband.

"Yes, I was told the temple was all-but destroyed when, uh, when Sokar invaded."

"Sokar?" Gran questioned, pouring two cups of tea. "Ah, Seker. Oh, that old devil would have liked to think he was half the god Benu was. His Jaffa just marched through the Ring one day, declaring their master had slain Benu in battle. With the Fire Lord dead, Seker was free to lay claim to his territories." She scoffed. "Seker styled himself as a fiery underworld god, like some twisted form of Benu." _Both_ were parasites, only one had illusions of being a "benevolent" god, while the other gave in to his baser nature.

Confusion and horror flitted across the young man's face. Cautiously opening her senses, she became aware of a rush of flame and anguish and fear and triumph, and was once more taken aback by the strength of his emotions. "My dear boy, are you all right?"

He jumped, snatching for his cup of tea to keep it from falling. "S-sorry," he stammered. "I, uh, I had a nightmare about fire last night, which is why I went out walking this morning." He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, he was calmer. "You were saying?"

That nagging sense of familiarity was back again. Gran had thought she'd narrowed the similarities down when she compared him to the amnesiac miner she fell in love with and married, but that wasn't the only thing calling out to her. "I was telling you how the temple was destroyed. Seker's Jaffa burned it to the ground when they took over the old fortress. That's when my husband and I moved from the mines to the City."

"Did anything survive the fire?" he asked. "I mean, I'm sure there were writings and art still in the temple when it was destroyed."

She shook her head. "What Seker's Jaffa didn't destroy, Yu's did."

"Oh."

He sounded genuinely disappointed, and she sensed in him a kindred spirit who mourned the wanton destruction of knowledge. "You're a very respectful young man, if a bit strange."

The young man ducked his head. "Thank you, uh, ma'am."

"Just call me Gran. Everyone else does."

"I'm Daniel."

"That's a nice name for a nice boy," she smiled. A thought struck her then. "Tell me, had you ever heard of Benu before you came here?"

He hesitated. "I'm not sure. Maybe?"

She leaned forward, palms beginning to sweat. "Benu's avatar was a bird. The Benu bird, it is said, dies in flame, but is reborn from the ashes. A painful way to die, yes, but the bird returns to life brighter, wiser, and more wondrous than ever."

Daniel shivered, as though her words had found some resonance within him. "Do you think Benu's temple will be reborn from its ashes, Gran?"

"No," she replied, certain now of the source of his strange familiarity, "but if you're finished with your tea, there's something I'd like to show you."

He set his cup down, and she rose slowly from her comfortable chair and collected the battered lantern from her mantle. Lighting the wick, she motioned for him to follow her to the cellar door set into the wall beneath the stairs to the second floor. At the bottom of the cellar steps, she turned, walked over to a large cabinet built into the far wall, and handed Daniel her lantern.

"My husband was one of the miners," she explained, "but he worked for the temple during the months when the roads to the mine were made impassable by heavy snow. We were both at the temple the day Seker's Jaffa destroyed it, but with the help of a few others who worked there, we were able to save the most important documents and relics." Sliding back the well-oiled latch, she threw open the tall doors and waved her arm over the contents.

Daniel's eyes grew wide as he took in the stacks of scrolls and shelves of books. "You saved all _this?_ H-how..." His expressive eyebrows knitted. "How did you manage to save all this from the fire?"

Gran smiled, closing the cabinet. "We began packing early, as we had a good idea of what would happen when the Jaffa first stepped through the Great Ring," she explained, deciding against sharing that one of the temple's acolytes had foreseen the burning of the temple. Daniel, with his inquisitive mind, would certainly want to know more, but she sensed he would have to find his own answers to his many questions.

"Oh," he replied simply. "Um... no one, uh, happened to save a statue about this high—" he spread his hands a distance approximately equal to the length of his forearm"—did they?"

"In the shape of a rising bird?" she asked rhetorically, pointing to a second set of doors in the cabinet. "Yes, my boy, they did." She cocked her head to the side. "It does me no good sitting down here in the dark. It's yours."

"What? No, I couldn't... I mean—"

Gran fisted one hand on her hip, and reached up with the other to turn his chin to face her directly. "Daniel, lad, the _real_ Benu didn't care for physical trappings... he was a spirit, and had no need 'em. The Goa'uld imposter who laid claim to his name insisted upon having symbols of his stolen wealth on display. The Benu bird _is_ a symbol of the real Benu, but he won't at all mind you having this statue." She chuckled. "In fact, I think he might appreciate the irony."

Daniel's mouth hung open in surprise. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"Oh, only that anything which would annoy the false Benu would be appreciated by the true one," she prevaricated dismissively. "Now hand me that lantern, and let's get you your statue, eh?"

Once the statue was retrieved, she led Daniel back up the stairs and settled herself beside the fire while he tucked the relic into his satchel. Folding her hands primly, she then began to explain the street markers used by the citizens of Gishoral, and insisted he repeat her directions. There had once been a metaphysical meaning to the colors chosen for the city's directions, but explaining their significance was something she was sure would take more time than this young man had available.

The sudden ache in her old bones foretold of coming trouble. "There's a good lad," she beamed when he completed his recitation of the directions. "I hope to meet you again the next time the caravans are in town, Daniel. Perhaps it will have finally thawed by then."

Both situations, she feared, were unlikely. Gishoral was beginning what one of the temple prognosticators had foretold was an "ice age", and it would be many generations before it warmed again—long after it had become uninhabitably cold. As for Daniel, he had a destiny before him, and she doubted even the most skilled of the seers could have mapped his future.

As if echoing her fears, the city's alarm bells began to ring. "Another Jaffa attack," she answered in reply to his inquiry. "Back inside the house, boy... it's best you stay inside until this is over."

Quickly, he shut the door and moved away from it. "Does this happen often?"

"Once or twice a thaw, in the old days. This is the second time for an attack in only a few days, though."

Daniel carefully laid his satchel on the floor and helped her to shove a wedge under the door to prevent it from being easily opened from the outside, then he closed and latched the interior shutters on the windows. "Which Goa'uld do you think it is?"

She shook her head. "Does it matter? They all want the same things: ore from the mines, people to worship them, and the occasional servant."

"What about hosts?" he asked.

"Not here. We don't breed 'em pretty enough," Gran grinned, deliberately raking her eyes over the young man. He was, after all, as beautiful on the outside as his spirit. "All-the-more reason for you to stay inside until the fight's finished." She cocked her head, listening to the sounds of battle. "Staff weapons, and lots of 'em."

Daniel frowned. "More than normal?"

"Many more than normal," she confirmed. "This fight won't take long. I doubt reinforcements have arrived from the fortress yet, so there may still be a while yet before it is safe to open the door." Apparently trusting her advice, Daniel returned to his seat beside the fire.

It took nearly a full candlemark before the battle subsided, and when Gran was confident the immediate danger had passed, she motioned for Daniel to open the door. No sooner had he reached for the handle than a booming voice began to announce something supposed to be impressively frightening. "It's one of those blasted _vo'cume_s," she explained at Daniel's questioning look. "Useless blathering. I never understood the language of the gods."

"He's telling us to surrender and bow before him... him being Ba'al," Daniel translated, a grimace twisting his face. "This is going to make it difficult for my caravan to leave, isn't it?"

"That it might. What else is he saying?"

"We're to assemble before him to 'hear the words of he who possesses the _vo'cume_'," he replied. "This may be my opportunity to get back to the inn—to my people."

Gran nodded in agreement. "Good luck to you, Daniel."

He paused. "You're not going to—"

"I'm too old to be standing out in the cold whilst an over-inflated monkey in a tin suit tells me to bow down in praise of his 'god'," she grinned wolfishly. "Now, you go find that wife of yours, boy, and get yourselves off this ice block."

Daniel gave her a quick hug, gathered his bag, and plunged back out into the frigid air. Gran stood in the doorway and watched until he merged with a crowd heading for the road to the Stargate, then switched to her Spirit Sight to follow him beyond the curves of the road.

His curious blend of ageless wisdom and youthful enthusiasm had been a welcome light to the old woman's day, and though it had taken her time to understand the impressions of him her gifts had given her, Gran now realized exactly why it was Daniel had been so familiar. His outwardly-reaching spirit, the brilliant light of his soul, and the ever-shifting hues of his complex personality: these were the things she saw the one and only time she found herself in the presence of another being of Benu's race. Furthermore, there was a gentle touch about him that mirrored the one she saw on herself when she turned her Sight inward.

Watching as Daniel's light faded from her vision, she sighed, recalling the name of the teacher who'd helped her to master the Spirit Sight. "Oh, Oma... what did you do to that boy?"

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I was originally intending to go a slightly different direction with Gran, but then a plot bunny hopped across my path. Since it's doubtful I'll ever revisit Gran or Gishoral—and I can't imagine how I'd fit this section into my "rewrite" of the original story—I let the wicked bunny have its way.

Edit: acer-sigma wanted to know what Gran would have seen had she looked at Vala...

Vala's spirit would have been very self-contained, since she doesn't reach out to others easily. Like most people, she would be dominated by only one or two colors, and in her case, her primary color is red: her spirit shifts from the dark red of anger, courage, and willpower to the fiery red of passion, sexuality, and impulsivity, but at her core, she would be a much lighter shade (i.e. pink), denoting love, loyalty, friendship, and femininity. A few traces of yellow touch here and there, denoting her optimism, and turning into thin lines of orange where it touches on the various shades of red: deception (dark orange), thirst for action (red-orange), materialism (gold), and enthusiasm (yellow-orange).

I might use my "Spirit Sight" on the other members of SG-1, but don't hold your breaths, 'k?


End file.
